


heartache

by cautiouslyoptimistic



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cautiouslyoptimistic/pseuds/cautiouslyoptimistic
Summary: heartache, she learned, was not so easily shakenor, waverly struggles after the mess with jolene





	heartache

**Author's Note:**

> i'm expanding my horizons and writing for a pairing i've got no business writing. is it a mess? sure. will i write more? who knows. as always i hope it's not shit

Heartache, she learned, was not so easily shaken. 

(It took root in the deepest recesses of her heart, thriving despite her best efforts to squash it like the weed it was. It bloomed, flowering under her clumsy attempts to stamp it out, surviving despite the balloons and apologies and hugs and promises that it meant nothing.)

Waverly closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment in all the chaos. 

Doc was a vampire now. (It was new, and by the way Wynonna clutched her bottle of whiskey, it hurt far more than she expected it to.)

_ Michelle _ (not  _ Mamma _ , not anymore, not after she left  _ again _ ) was gone, leaving two broken girls in her wake. 

Nicole hadn’t answered her phone in hours. (Wynonna had mentioned something about quality time with Nedley before she drank away her pain, or attempted to in any case. Waverly just wished Nicole would let her know she was okay.)

(In dark moments like this one, when all her walls of cheeriness and positivity had been felled by the sheer force of the series of awful things that came one after another, her thoughts began to wander. 

She thought about the things that had been said under Jolene’s influence, wondered if Jolene merely unearthed the rot and brought it to the surface or if it was all fake, all untrue like Wynonna and Nicole insisted. 

She thought about how that day in the station, Nicole yelling at her, wasn’t the first time she’d been upset about being left out—about being kept in the dark and at a distance when all the  _ crazy _ went down.) 

“You’re the only one I trust anymore, baby girl,” Wynonna slurred suddenly from the couch. She was focused on something Waverly couldn’t see. “Doc is...a grade A asshole. Mamma has too many screws loose. And Dolls…” She trailed off, seemingly unable to continue the thought, swaying a little. 

“What about Nicole?” It came out roughly, tinged with a little bit more frustration and bitterness than she had thought she was feeling. She wasn’t sure who it was directed at either—Wynonna, Nicole, or herself. 

Wynonna’s expression changed, going from blank to something soft—something Waverly had only ever associated with herself and Willa. (And while the frustration faded, the bitterness didn’t, and Waverly wondered what that meant.)

“That walking carrot loves you, baby girl,” Wynonna said bluntly, as if that answered the question. In a way, Waverly supposed it did.

“She loves you too. She wouldn’t put up with you if she didn’t,” Waverly said, walking over to the couch and leaning against the armrest, hand coming to rest on Wynonna’s shoulder to ground her in the moment. (She looked so close to just fluttering away, fading into nothingness, and not for the first time, it was Waverly’s turn to protect Wynonna, her turn to ward off demons and hold Wynonna as her shoulders shook with the sobs she fought so valiantly to hold back.) 

“I know,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “She told me.” The bottle of whiskey in her hand slipped, falling to the floor with a loud thud, the remaining alcohol sloshing over onto the wood floor. Neither of them made any move to clean it up. “I would never have come back to Purgatory if it wasn’t for you.” 

(The words rammed into her like a truck, and Waverly was left breathless.)

“You came back for Curtis—”

“—no, it was you. I was worried about you. All the time.” 

(She can feel a panic attack coming on. Her heart rate was increasing, her head was spinning, her lungs couldn’t seem to pull in enough oxygen. 

This wasn’t what she wanted tonight, not on top of everything else. She didn’t want to hear her worst fears confirmed, realize that Jolene hadn’t made anything up, but just exposed it, amplified it. 

She didn’t want this damn heartbreak anymore.) 

“Wynonna, I—” 

“—everywhere I went, you were right there, in the back of my head, like a recurring zit.” 

Waverly grimaced, not exactly thrilled with Wynonna’s description. “Wynonna—” she tried again, but Wynonna waved her silent.

“You were always too good for this town,” Wynonna said, turning a little to face her. There was something steely in her expression, something determined and sad. “You always deserved better. Sometimes it drove me nuts.” 

“You deserve better than this too,” Waverly tried, and though Wynonna grinned, Waverly could tell that she didn’t really believe it. 

“You and Alice, you two are  _ everything _ to me.” She got to her feet, unsteady but not drunk. “If all you were to me was a half-sister, I’d be way more selfish than I am now. Which is saying something.” She sniffed, wiped at her cheeks absentmindedly. Then, slowly and almost as if she was trying to commit the moment to memory, she pulled Waverly into a hug and pressed a kiss into her hair. (It was what she did when Waverly had nightmares, it was what she did before she left and then again when she came back—that was the thing about Wynonna, she  _ always _ came back.) “I’m here for you, baby girl. I’m here  _ for _ you. Always.” 

(Waverly didn’t wonder how Wynonna knew—knew about the feelings she’d been pushing way deep down, wanting to avoid them for a little longer. That was the thing about Wynonna. She was always good at reading people, especially good at reading her little sister. 

She did wonder if Wynonna only spoke up now because she was feeling vulnerable over Doc. She  _ did _ wonder what exactly Nicole had said to Wynonna that she felt okay enough to let her guard down and allow her eyes show just how deeply she cared about the soon-to-be Sheriff. 

Wynonna was a lot of things—distracted, busy, hiding heaps and loads of hurt and pain under sarcasm and a sharp wit—but she was never oblivious. She always  _ saw _ Waverly.) 

“I’m here for you too, Wynonna,” Waverly said quietly, closing her eyes and allowing one last tear to slide down her cheek. She was done letting this hurt her. Wynonna needed her now, more than ever. “You know that right?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Waverly affirmed, releasing her sister, rolling her eyes when she saw the grin on Wynonna’s face.

“Then you tell Sheriff Swedish Fish that I can manage a Chipotle just fine.” 

Waverly had no clue what any of that meant, but she laughed and promised she would, not feeling the weight of Michelle’s departure or Doc’s decisions or Dolls’ loss for a brief moment. Instead, she had Wynonna making faces as she complained about ‘Sheriff  _ Haughtmess _ ’ and her inability to hold her liquor, and it felt ordinary and safe and  _ good _ . 

And she thought she could feel a little bit of that heartache ease. 

 

x

 

There was a new familiarity and closeness to the way Wynonna and Nicole interacted. It consisted of simultaneous eye-rolling at a Revenant’s threats, high fives at Wynonna’s jokes and one surprised laugh from Wynonna when Nicole played along, and a great deal of teasing aimed at one another—though where it once was barbed and intended to hurt, it was now just a  _ fun _ , light-hearted, mutual appreciation of the ludicrous. 

It was...nice. 

(On one hand, it was great to see Nicole getting along with Wynonna so well. They were the two people she loved most in the world, and she wanted them to like each other. On the other hand, getting along with Wynonna meant getting involved with Wynonna—with the Earp curse, with the crazy and the insane and the dozens of life-threatening situations. The more integration Nicole had with Wynonna, the more she was involved in the things that Waverly wished she could wall Nicole off from. 

Nicole represented stability. She was the most stable thing in Waverly’s life, a pillar to lean on when it was too hard to stand on her own. Involving her in the Earp curse and Bulshar and everything that entailed—all the crazy that went one—almost felt like she was purposely creating cracks and structural damage to that pillar. 

Even worse, it meant  _ Nicole’s _ life would be in danger as much as Wynonna’s life was on the line. Waverly couldn’t protect Wynonna from the curse—though she wished for nothing more—but she certainly could keep  _ Nicole _ safe. At least, she thought so.)

It also was a little strange. For so long, Nicole had been  _ hers _ . Only hers. She’d been boxed away, her involvement with the crazy dictated by what Waverly wanted and needed. But now, Wynonna had a claim. Nicole was her friend, a partner, back-up she could trust. Jeremy confided in Nicole. Doc trusted her advice. 

Nicole wasn’t just Waverly’s anymore—she was part of the group, unable to substitute for Dolls and his calm, logical, strong presence, but was able to act in his stead. 

Nicole and Wynonna had inside jokes; Nicole was Wynonna’s first call now when things went downhill, though often the call wasn’t even necessary as Nicole was already there; Nicole came by the homestead sometimes not for Waverly, but for Wynonna, just smiling at Waverly before she was gone again. 

(And those thoughts, planted in her mind by Jolene, were never far away—the ‘am I good enough’ and the ‘am I even enough’ and the ‘she has the others, does she really need me?’) 

(She’d started to turn away from Nicole in bed, curled as small as she could get, trying to hide the fact that she was close to tears.  

She figured the worst part about it all was that Nicole didn’t even notice.)   

The stairs creaked under her as she slowly made her way up to her bedroom. It had been a long day, though to be fair, she felt that way about every day lately. Nicole was still at the station, filling out paperwork, sending Waverly an apology text for missing their dinner date. 

Waverly understood. Things came up. She just didn’t know how to feel: sharing Nicole was one thing, losing her entirely like this...this was unbearable. 

She wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed from the moment she got into bed and when Nicole made it home, sliding in next to her. All she knew was that she’d had trouble falling and staying asleep lately, and she knew it was because she missed the warmth of Nicole’s arms around her. Even now, Nicole didn’t touch her, though she did scoot close enough that Waverly could feel her breath against the back of her neck, could sense the warmth emanating from her. 

“I know you’re not asleep, Waves,” Nicole said suddenly, her voice unnaturally loud in the silence despite the fact she was barely whispering. The words, spoken so close to Waverly’s ear, sent a shiver down her spine. (Damn, she  _ missed _ Nicole.) But Waverly didn’t respond—couldn’t really. Not if she wanted Nicole to remain in the dark about just how close to crying she really was. “That’s fine,” Nicole sighed, “you don’t have to talk. I just...can you at least let me know what I did? So I can fix it or I don’t know...make it better. I miss you, Waverly.” 

And Waverly? She felt something in her snap.

“You miss me?” she demanded furiously, rolling over so that she was facing Nicole. “You have a funny way of showing it. You’re either with Wynonna or at the station, and even when I go by there, you  _ avoid _ me.” 

Nicole, who had seemed shocked by the sudden anger, recovered quickly. “I thought you wanted space,” she whispered back, sounding a little irritated herself. When Waverly let out a scoff, Nicole released a frustrated sigh. “You think I haven’t noticed you turn away every night? Or that you turn your face when I try to kiss you?”

(Of course Nicole had noticed. It was  _ Nicole _ . She’d seen right through Waverly from the day they met.)

“You’re too busy for all that,” Waverly said stubbornly, eyes narrowed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You got what you wanted, you’re involved. You’re the _ first call _ when demons or monsters try to kill us. You don’t need me.” 

(She  _ hated _ the fact that her voice broke as the words flew out of her, hated the fact that the tears finally came, hated the fact that  _ Jolene’s _ words were still on loop in her mind—that she kept seeing Nicole’s anger every time she closed her eyes.

She hated that Nicole’s response wasn’t to get defensive or angry but to brave the distance between them and begin gently wiping away Waverly’s tears with the pad of her thumb.) 

“Oh Waverly,” she said, scooting closer and locking gazes with Waverly, “you have to know that the only reason I ever wanted to be involved in all that was because it was in your life, and I want to be a part of everything in your life.” She brushed away another tear, smiling at Waverly like she alone was responsible for every single good thing in the world. “You don’t think I try so hard with Wynonna because of her sunny personality, do you?” 

“I just—with Jolene...” She trailed off, not quite sure what she was trying to say. But somehow, Nicole understood.

“Waverly, listen to me. Everything I want, everything,” she repeated, stressing the word so much that Waverly almost felt its weight, “is right here in front of me. I want  _ you _ . And everything that comes with it.” 

“But you were angry,” Waverly pointed out, unsure when her hands had twisted around Nicole’s shirt, attempting to bring her closer, but not quite caring either. “You were angry with me.”

“I’m a cop, I want to help when things go wrong,” Nicole said with a laugh, hands moving from Waverly’s face to her waist, rubbing circles into Waverly’s skin with her thumb. “And I didn’t know how to handle you trying to keep me away from the crazy. I felt like you were trying to box me out of half your life and that hurt. But if the choice was a box with you or all the crazy without you, I’d choose you every time.” 

Waverly couldn’t help it, she tugged on Nicole’s shirt to close the last of the distance between them and practically sighed into the kiss when their lips finally met. 

(She didn’t think she’d ever really be free of the things Jolene exposed. But she supposed that was okay. There was always rot and bitterness and anger, but it was tempered by affection and laughter and so much love. Maybe there would always be some measure of heartache—and in their line of work and their lives, Waverly didn’t think that would change—but it was easier to carry knowing that Nicole was there to try and kiss it away.)

“I want you, too,” Waverly said as she pulled away, her heart pounding in response to the way Nicole was looking at her. “Everything. All of it.” 

“It’s yours,” Nicole promised, leaning forward for another, deeper, kiss.

And rather than heartache, it was a whole lot of love that took root in her heart—something she was glad to see bloom. 


End file.
